


Welcome to Good Neighbor

by SaltyNightmares



Series: Ain't You Just A Peach, Babydoll [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Long Shot, Unrequited Love, also I wrote this on fallout kick last year, if you know me from way back when you'll recognize the OC, so please no pitchforks, this is to bid until finals are over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 09:25:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10873893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltyNightmares/pseuds/SaltyNightmares
Summary: Ever wanted to lose yourself in something? somewhere? someone? Grace did and she had a very sure feeling that it worked considering her limited interactions with the Mayor of Good Neighbor. Before the war, she'd used Nate and his problem with leaving bottles full to keep her demons at bay but now that infidelity was off the table and her sister's corpse wasn't around to guilt her. She needed stronger drugs to keep going. Thankfully, Hancock was happy to supply her.





	Welcome to Good Neighbor

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! It's been awhile since I posted anything haha. Sorry about that, got stuck in rut, but I'm feeling much better now and have been working some new fics for y'all. Of course, its finals season, so those will have to wait 'til I'm finished in about a month. But, I figured I may as well post this one-shot turned fic. I'm not super happy with it but It came out much better than I expected. Thank you all for the support! Hope you like this!

Grace Kingsley had been out in the wasteland for over six months. Though she had made peace with the fact her home was destroyed and any semblance of her old life was restricted to her memories, the passage of time never got any easier. She threw herself into Sanctuary Hills, her and Nora’s old home. When she had first arrived after being frozen for centuries, it was just another rotting reminder of better times. Nowadays it was a medium-sized settlement with a ragtag team of misfits and lost souls working the land to survive. She had picked up this group of strays her first few days in the commonwealth. It took some getting used to, being a leader. Preston handed the torch to her; everyone in their little group looked up to her for direction, even Marcy Long. Grace had a few close calls bringing them to their new home, but after a bit of bickering and some raving on chems from Mama Murphy, Sanctuary Hills was theirs. 

Understanding the importance of defense from Raiders, Grace spared no expense. She had a few of the able-bodied members of their community guarding the bridge at all times and the few turrets, she and Sturges built, covering their rear ends. She managed to clear out the rubble by the yellow house that sits across from Nora's and Nate’s old home. She set up a wooden shelter that housed most of the settlers. She hadn't set foot in the old house. It sat there like an unwanted stain or ill-gotten scar, taunting her with her sins. she could see her bare tattooed back peeking through the master bedroom window, she could hear her moans from across the street, the grunts of the spoken-for man beneath her. The feeling of a powerful release and then the dull, maddening fall back down to earth where she lay in another woman's bed with another woman’s man. She was a vile snake and she knew it. She had just soiled her own blood’s nest and couldn't find one reason why. Until she felt one poke her already sore ass, say what you will about that nationalistic military whore, his dick was huge. Poor Nora, she thought, all of this to bear; There's a reason she got pregnant so quick. She smiled wickedly, “Round two, Big Guy.” 

Her eyes snapped shut, ‘No, she can't keep reliving this horror.’ She tore herself away from the porch and forced herself into her room, relishing in the comfort that her current bed was too small for another person. Time seemed to tick even slower than usual as she lay there waiting for sleep to claim her. It never did. 

When dawn broke, she knew she had to leave town. While Grace did vow to help Sanctuary Hills grow into a thriving community, she also made a vow to her sister to find Shaun, her last bit of family. God knows how he is or who has taken him. Grace was gonna find him, one way to another, all she knew was that sitting in sanctuary regretting her past wasn't getting her anywhere. 

She hiked up her boots, packed up her gear and whistled for dogmeat. 

Preston, who had just emerged from the shelter something akin to well rested, took one look at his “general” and knew. She was leaving and was mostly likely leaving for her “business”. It's been six months and the two of them had been through thick and thin, saving the commonwealth, building Sanctuary Hills and still, she was trying to atone for her sins. He had tried to pry her past from her a number of times. Hundreds of fireside chats left in smoke, she was too stubborn or too embarrassed to tell him.

To his credit, he only asked out of concern. The general may not return it but Preston idolized her. She was his hero, straight out of those tales of founding fathers, a true patriot. She had taken him on one of these business trips; she cleared out an entire factory of raiders, in his eyes without breaking a sweat, just to question their leader and save some settlers in the process. Yeah, she's a hero, he wished he could remind her every day just how much she meant to the Commonwealth, to the minuteman, to him.

“General,” he shouted, as he jogged up to her at the bridge out of Sanctuary. 

“Garvey, good you're awake. I’m-” 

“Leaving,” he finished, “how long this time general?”

She paused, she didn’t know if forever was an ok answer. ‘It's a lie and you know it. The criminal always comes back to the scene of the crime’, a voice in the back of her head scolded.

She sighed, “I don’t know, three, maybe four weeks. Gonna get the supply line from Starlight Drive-In up and running. They need more food and we need more defense, plus I haven't been to Diamond City in a while. There could be some more….uh ‘business’ for me.”

This time Preston sighed too, letting his face betraying the smallest ounce of pain. ‘She wasn't taking him with her, that meant one of two things, she was either working through her issues or she didn't trust him with her “business”,’ he was betting on the later.

Just as quick as the emotion came, he tucked it away and put on his serious face, “Alright then general, your orders?”

“Just, “ she began, noting his shuffle of tone, “just look after Sanctuary for me; make sure Mama Murphy stays away from the chems, and Marcy doesn't pick a fight with one of the ghouls and make sure Sturges doesn't touch my power armor and-“

“Relax general, how many times have you told me this speech? Just go take care of your work. I will take care of our home.” He said this with a sad smile, lingering over “our”. 

She returned his smile, though guilt gnawed at her insides. She turned around, and started to head out over the bridge, dogmeat at her heels. She stopped half way, Preston had turned about to return to his usual morning walk, when he heard her shout his name. 

“Yes, general?”

“Thanks for everything. I want you to know, after this is over, we’ll have that fireside chat, yeah?”

His ears burned as his eyes lit up. He wanted to scream, ‘yes, I'd like that now if possible’ or ‘I'd do anything for you’, ‘I love you’ or I’ don't need know general, you are all that matters’ but instead he let out a pathetic “anything for you general”.

He swore for a second he saw her shoulders drop, but it could have been the sagging bridge. He didn't have time to determine exactly which as she had already crossed the bridge by the time the thought had crossed him. 

Grace hated hot weather, heat made the day seem longer, bogged down work and made everyone feel sluggish; in short it sucked. The radiation basically amplified it. She reached Diamond City in record time, and by the grace of some fickle god, had no trouble along the way. Starlight Drive-In was on her way and she had succeeded in convincing one of the newly added settlers to run a supply line from there to Sanctuary. As General of the Minutemen, she had to worry about more than Sanctuary. In fact, about 13 settlements relied on the supply lines she had set up connecting them. Her role as guardian of these settlements meant she was always off defending one or the other, bringing supplies or just going out to create more. It was part of Preston’s grand scheme; if we fill the commonwealth with Minutemen backed settlements, then the whole wasteland would prosper and feel a little less hopeless. She didn’t exactly share that idea; no matter how much one tried, people would always fall back on their base instincts, including betrayal. But if it kept her busy and helped her look for Shaun, then who was she to question it. 

She came through those familiar worn out gates for the upteen time. Of course she still remembered spending the day with her old man in those stands, watching the pitcher whip up something fierce, this diamond held so many fond memories. Though some not so good ones, she remembered the business with the surgeon turned murderer. Her stomach squealed in protest. Pushing down those rather unpleasant thoughts, Grace pulled up to Takashi’s noodle bar. 

The aging robot repeated his usual phrase of Japanese. Grace nod once and held up a finger. After a moment, a bowl of steaming ramen of questionable origin was placed before her. As is done in Diamond City, she slurped down her meal with gusto, her first hot meal in a week. Bowl empty, Grace left a few caps on the bar, before whistling for dogmeat. 

The pair made their usual rounds through the market; sold her raider loot and excess junk at the Surplus, bought some ammo for her weapons, remembering to pick up some extra for the settlers back home. After the exchange, she walked away with a much lighter load and heavier cap bag. Taking her usual right turn into Valentine’s little alleyway, Grace ignored the suspicious glances from guards and headed on up to meet her detective friend. She was greeted as usual by Ellie, who sat at her desk, shuffling case documents. “Nicky left for a case just a little while ago. You just missed him, honey,” she spoke in her normal cheerful tone. 

Grace gave her a rare genuine smile. She didn’t like very many people in the commonwealth, trusted far fewer than that, but Nick and Ellie were honest, clean and well, good to her. “It’s alright, El. I’ll just wait around for him, besides I need time away from home,” she exhaled on “home”.

“Ah,”  Ellie understood and nodded, “Well, about that. Nicky did some digging about the Shaun situation and well, nothing has come up.”

Grace felt her soul sink a little. Then Ellie remembered something, “but he did say something before he left, something about a lead in Good Neighbor?” 

“Good Neighbor?”

“It’s a town, not far from here. It’s, well, a home for those that Diamond City rejects.”

“Oh.” Ghouls, she meant ghouls.

“Yup, a lot of Nicky’s cases end up leading there. In fact, he was headed over there now.” 

Grace rose from her seat, “Well, if the great detective is out there, he’s gonna need some backup.”

“It’s not like that, Gracey. The people there are good people, mostly.”

“Either way, El, I may as well go see him. It’s not like I’m doing any good sitting here.”

It was Ellie’s turn to sigh, “You and Nicky, stubborn as pigs. Alright then, go on. But bring my boy home safe.”

Crooked smile affixed to her face, Grace nodded, though Ellie could read the words that her body spoke,  _ No Promises _ .

The trek over to the complex was rather short. She had asked a Diamond City guard where she could find it, who had laughed in her face. Realising she was serious, He pointed her in the northeast direction. When she raised a brow and pressed him for cross streets, “You can’t miss it lady, trust.” She threw some words of thanks over her shoulder and head off in that direction, with Dogmeat in tow. 

After a few miles hike, past the nicer half of Boston, Grace realized what that guard was talking about. Bright neon lights broadcasted the path into Good Neighbor. They certainly weren’t hiding. Thick walls made of junk and metal, encased the city, keeping it relatively safe from the outside. There was only one entry point, large metal doors, she pushed them open. 

Similar to the outside, Neon Lights blinded Grace. For a moment, she thought she was back in modern Boston, walking around, enjoying the nightlife, spending the night on some guy’s arm. But no, this wasn’t the past and the kind of nightlife in this part of town wanted her dead. She took in her surroundings. It wasn’t all to different from Diamond City, same set of armed guards eyeing her up and down, most concluding she was just another drifter. Two storefronts flashed their lights, calling out to newly arrived visitors. She made a mental note to visit both. While she had traded most of her things back in Diamond City, that arms place looked promising. As she walked further into the city, a man approached her. Decked in leather, with a mean-looking piece on his belt, he was smoking a cigarette. Took a drag and motioned to her, “New to Good Neighbor Friend? Can’t go walking around without insurance.” 

“Unless it’s ‘keep dumb assholes away from me insurance’, I’m not interested,” was her curt reply. She didn’t have time for this kind of bullshit. Folding her arms over her chest, she gave him the meanest look she could muster. Though a part of her knew this was gonna end up bloody, she was ready to grab her trusty 10 mm from her side. 

“Now don’t be like that. I think you’re gonna like what I have on offer; you hand over everything you in ‘dem pockets or accidents start happening to you. Big. Bloody. Accidents,” he threatened, cigarette thrown haphazardly on the ground. Grace could see his hand twitch towards his gun. She tensed up ready to draw, hand on her gun. 

The moment was broken as a voice sounded, “Whoa, Time out. First time someone steps through those gates, they’re a guest. You lay off that extortion crap.” Out of the shadows stepped a ghoul. Grace was used to seeing Ghouls, hell half of the farmers in Sanctuary Hills were excommunicated Ghouls. But this was first time, she had seen one in a Colonial outfit. He made Preston’s uniform look normal, with a Tricorner hat to match and an American flag tied at the waist. Either way, this guy just stuck out his neck for her and she was gonna save her judgment until this heckler was dealt with. 

“What did you care? She isn’t one of us,” the man in leather turned his attention away from her to face the ghoul as he made his way to them. 

“No love for your Mayor, Finn,” fired back the mayor in question, “I said let her go.”

“You’re soft, Hancock,” returned ‘Finn’ anger clearly present on his face, “You keep letting outsiders walk all over us, one day there’ll be a new mayor.”

“Come on man,” he walked closer to finn, putting a hand on his shoulder, “this is me we are talking about. Let me tell you something…” 

Then something happened that even Grace didn’t see coming, the mayor of Good Neighbor proceeded to stab one of his citizens to death. Her eyes widened for second, shocked, but then she remembered what time she was living in and then narrowed them. So this is how this town is run, she thought, makes sense considering what those in Diamond City told her, ‘in Goodneighbor two things count, style and bodycount.’

As Finn lay on the ground, slowly bleeding out, Hancock spoke, “Now why’d go and say something like that, huh? Breaking my heart over here.” Stepping over his body, “you alright sister?” he asked finally addressing her. 

Nodding, “I’m fine,” she answered, “Thanks for taking care of him.”

“Now don’t let this incident taint your view of our little community,” he assured, “Good Neighbors’ of the people, for the people.”

Grace recalled that phrase from her poly sci classes from college. She had spent her first two years studying their nation’s rise to power before turnpiking into med school. Never in any of her constitution classes did they mention a John Hancock turned Ghoul. In all retrospect, it’s a pretty good use of the persona. His past counterpart had not much else to his name than an excessive signature. She also now noticed how deep his voice was, very distinct. She didn’t doubt this guy was the mayor of Good Neighbor.

“‘Of the people, for the people’ oh brother,” she replied sarcasm dripping off every word. 

This got a laugh out of the old ghoul, though she couldn’t tell if he was pre-war or not. “I can tell, I’m gonna like you already,” a part of Grace returned the sentiment, “Just consider this town your home away from home. Just so long as you remember who’s in charge.”

She gave him a sly smirk, as he turned around and signaled to another figure in the darkness. Grace let out a small breath, for the lack of excitement she found on her trek here, this wasn’t what she had expected. Making a small mental note to pay another visit to this fine establishment’s Mayor for work, Grace trode over to the general store, hoping the shopkeep was a little closer to normal than the other two residents she’d met. 

To little surprise, the general store owner was another ghoul by the name of Daisy. After a few pleasantries, which Grace had to admit she missed, they bonded over their memories of the past. To her credit, Grace didn't try to sour that poor old woman’s remembrance. They exchanged some caps, as Grace pawned off the gun she had fished off Finn’s still warm corpse. She shrugged to herself, it wasn’t as if the man needed it anymore. 

Grace made her way over to weapon’s stand next door. She didn’t bat an eye at the robot by the counter named KL-E-O. If it wanted to be a woman, who the hell was she to say differently. She took in her wares, noting a decent missile launcher. Right now, her caps were better spent on ammo. 

Feeling more comfortable, she ventured further into the city, giving the mayor’s building another glance. She noticed a few key establishments as she entered Good Neighbor proper. First, her eyes went to the flashing sign of a place called ‘The Memory Den’. She didn’t have a clue what the place was for, but it didn’t look like the usual dive Nick found himself in, so she ruled it out. Second, was the bar to her left, ‘The Third Rail’. It looked like your typical drinking hovel, though maybe a bit more class, certainly more classy than the Colonial Taphouse. This place seemed to be her best bet. Though she briefly considered ‘The Hotel Rexford’ but ultimately figured Nick would be questioning some client or another in a bar rather than the run-down hotel. 

A Bouncer stood at the second entrance to the Third Rail, asked a few questions. After determining she wasn’t a security risk, he let her pass. Decent guy that Ham, though he wasn’t much of talker which suited her fine. Walking down into the actual bar area, Grace felt another wave of nostalgia. In corner, a woman dressed to the nines sang the most beautiful tune, if she didn’t know better she’d thought she was in an actual speakeasy. Reality sucks those feelings dry, as Grace made her way to the bar, disappointed that her synth friend was nowhere to be seen. 

A white Mr. Handy filled the role of Bartender, went by the name White Chapel Charlie. As she took a seat at the bar, he immediately told to either buy a drink or leave.  She narrowed her eyes and ordered a bottle of Gwinnett. It tasted like piss but after a few sips, you’d barely notice it. Taking this chance to pry information from him, she shot him some questions, “So who owns this joint?” 

“Well, since you’re paying, It’s Hancock’s.”

She took a sip, “So you tend the place for him?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. Now anything else? Or can I return to my job?”

“Who is she?” she gestured toward the woman singing in the bright red dress.

“That there is Magnolia, anything else you want to know about her, is her own business.”

Feeling like she touched a nerve, Grace just asked what she wanted in the first place, “Say, did you notice a detective roll by,” lowering her voice, “ a synth?”

Charlie stopped polishing the glass in his hand, “what the fuck do you want with him?”

“Hey, hey,” she put up her hands, “Nick is a friend, alright. Came out here looking for him. Just needed to talk to him.”

He huffed, narrowing his eyes at her, though Grace didn’t even know that was possible for a robot. “He’s in that back room with that gun for hire.”

Downing her drink, she gave White-Chapel a nod of thanks, doled out a few caps and headed for the aforementioned room. She pulled back the dingy, rotting pink curtains to see a couple gunners threatening Nick and some Hired Merc in a corner. She kept her mouth shut, though she made eye contact with both the detective, who seemed utterly relieved at her appearance, and the Merc, who eyed her warily. Having said their piece, the thugs filled out of the room. 

Nick let out a breath of relief, situation having concluded peacefully, “Well, look who we have here. Someone was too antsy to wait for me back in Diamond City.”

“When have I ever been pacient, Valentine,” she quipped, giving her old friend a smile, thankful for this small moment of familiarity.  

The old synth laughed, as the man beside him leaned back and crossed his arms, coughing to gather their attention, “who’s the chick, Nick?”

“Huh, oh yeah, introductions. Grace, this Hired Gun is Macready and Macready, this wanderer is Grace.”

The pair stared each other down, both concluding the same thing; that the other was not worth their salt. Macready was the first to speak, “you sure this is same Grace we talked about; the pre-war gem?, ‘cuz to me, she looks like another wasteland bi- I mean rookie.”

“So, this is your client, Nicky, a merc with a mouth?” she raised her eyebrow, unfazed by his comments. He wasn’t the first to disregard her and sure as hell wouldn’t be the last. 

This got another chuckle from Nick, who replied, “Macready is in need of our services.”

Grace cut him off, “by ‘our’, you mean ‘your services’, Nicky?” She put her hands on her hips, not relishing the thought of spending anymore time with the weasel-looking man. 

“Not exactly, Grace. Listen he’s got some info on Shaun that he is willing to trade in exchange for help with his ‘problem’,” Valentine looked to the Merc to explain.

“Yeah, I saw this kid, Valentine mentioned. But I’ll  only tell if you help get those Gunners off my back.”   
“Gunners?” she asked, conceding to help. If that merc had any info on her nephew, then she would go through hellfire to get it out of him, “I’m guessing you pissed ‘em off and we have to help get them off your back.”

Macready nodded once and uncrossed his arms, “That’s not exactly it.” He looked back to Nick, who sighed before continuing, “What he means is they know the location of something vital to Macready here. So we need to get them off his case and get this location for him.”

Grace raised one brow, “What’s so important about this location? I’m assuming he’s gonna want us to help him get to that ‘location’.”

“Depending on where it is, I wouldn’t mind some backup.”

Grace weighed her options; she could always just pass, but that meant coming back to Sanctuary and Preston and Nora. No, she had better help Nick. Ellie made her promise after all. 

She stuck out one hand and gave the pair a smirk, “Sounds good to me, you have yourself a deal, Mac.”

He shook her hand after a slight bit of hesitation and Nick laid out their plan of attack. The Gunner Camp was located on a high vantage point, Mass Pike Interchange, making it hard to sneak into. They had to play it just right, kill off the gunners without drawing two much attention. The leaders of this particular batch of Gunners, Winston and Barnes, held the info they needed. This is where Grace excelled. Despite, her appearance, she was available to pry information from every foe and ally alike. After a two hour planning session, Grace couldn’t take it. 

“Not that I don’t like listening to you voice, Nicky, but I think we need to call it night, “ she rubbed her eyes.

To her side, the merc spoke up, “I hate to admit but she’s right. We can figure the rest out on the road tomorrow.”

Pushing aside their plans, the trio agreed to part ways and meet in the morning to start the journey to Mass Pike Interchange. Macready stayed in that backroom, while Nick managed to sweet talk White-Chapel Charlie into letting them spending the night in some rooms above the ‘Third Rail’. It Grace about ten minutes to fall onto her dirty mattress and sleep.

As per usual, her dream rotated around her moments in this god-forsaken wasteland. The chill that had enveloped her slowly receding as she felt hot hands grabbing at her legs. A frantic Nora screaming her name, blood oozing from her side, Grace could still smell it. She saw herself wrenching her body out of that deep sleep, rushing to her sister’s side to hear her final moments. “Shaun, they took my baby, Gracie. They took Shaun,” this statement was all that Nora could ever utter. Grace tucked her baby sister into her longer frame, cradling her cheek on her chest, patting her back in small, soft motions, “It's gonna be ok, hun. I’m gonna get ‘em back. Ok, Nora, I’m find Shaun. I’m gonna find him.” The look of urgency and fear in her sister’s eyes was enough to keep Grace awake for hours but this dream continues. She sees herself picking up her sister’s lifeless body and placing her back into her pod, so that at least when she came back to bury her, there would be something left to bury. She turned around to check Nate’s pod and found his corpse, empty with a gunshot to the chest. ‘Poor Nora’, she thought, ‘was she watching him die…?’ Clenching her fists, she felt anger boiling in her shoes, rising to surface. She wanted to scream, to throw up her hands, to let out her tears, but she did none of these things. She took the wedding bands off of the couple and strung them on the chain around her neck. It would a symbol of her promise to Nora, her penance for her past sins, her reminder of what was at stake. 

Grace shot up, panting, reeling from her nightmare. Nora and Nate’s faces, forever twisted into expressions of frosted pain, ingrained in her mind. She ran a shaky hand through her black hair, beads of sweat rolling down the sides of her face. Sitting up, she checked her pip boy; it was 2 in the morning. They would be heading out in four hours, no point in trying to fall back asleep. Picking herself off her dirty mattress, she looked over to the door to Nick’s room and then remembered he didn’t sleep. She walked to his door, ready to knock but then lost the nerve at the last second. He was already struggling with the memories of his own demons, why add her own? She sighed and went back to her room, packed up her things and decided to go down the bar and wrestle herself up a drink. 

Tip-toeing past magnolia’s and Charlie’s rooms, she headed down the stairs. Ham stood near the outside entrance, polishing his gun. He gave her a small nod, before she continued into the actual bar. Not feeling the need to turn on the lights, she used her pip boy to find a bottle of Gwinnett and vodka. She planted herself behind the bar, back against the wall, bottle in each hand, slowly chugging down the contents of both. Her curse was that even after the fourth bottle of Gwinnett, she wasn’t the least bit buzzed, but her throat was ablaze, letting her forget those faces in her pain. A single hand let go of its bottle to reach up and play with the two gold bands around her neck. She shut her eyes, wishing the dark would swallow her whole or that the monsters that took Shaun had killed her too. It was then that the lights flickered on with a loud thud, causing her to cover her eyes with her forearm. A voice called out at the bottom of the stairs that lead back outside, “Hope you're not planning on drinking me out of a bar.”

Taking a long swig from the vodka bottle, she pulled herself up to peek over the bar at the owner of the voice. Though her gut had already told her who’d she see, that intrigued grin and colonial outfit sealed the deal. Making a noise of annoyment, she grabbed another unopened bottle, “Wasn’t planning on it, Mr. Mayor, but since you’re offering.” 

Hancock walked closer, offering her a hand that she took and pulled her up to a semi-standing position. Grace sat on a bar stool, while Hancock, to Grace’s dismay, grabbed the bottle from her hands and went behind the bar. “I see that I didn’t need to plant the idea,” kicking the empty Gwinnett bottles she had left behind, “you were gonna get there sooner or later.” He picked up two glasses and filled them both. Grace watched the clear, deceivingly water-like substance swirl around in the somewhat clean glasses, beads of condensation forming from the already melting ice cubes. She muttered “thanks,” before downing her glass and sliding back over to him. Without taking his black, beady eyes off of her, Hancock filled her glass once more and broke the silence, “So you gonna explain why you were single-handing drinking me out of business?” 

Grace finished her drink before answering, ‘Bad dream,” she didn’t pass it back to him, rather she reached forward and downed his glass. He didn’t react, simply continued staring with an unreadable emotion, not that Grace was paying attention. “Must have been some dream, “ he probed, refilling both glasses, only to watch her empty them. She, in return stared at her glass, wishing she was drunk or asleep or both. “It was…” she didn’t want to finish that sentence, hell she didn’t know why she was even still here. Maybe it was the booze, she thought, but when she turned her gaze back to him, she realized that she couldn’t stomach the thought of going back to sleep. She opened her mouth, but he beat her to the punch, “I got it, you’d rather drink than talk about it.” 

She gave him a small smile, as he continued, “Well sister, what kind of mayor would I be if I wasn't in service to my people. How ‘bout this? I fill your glass and you hear me speak, sound good?”

As he concluded this sentence, he brought his glass up to his lips and took a sip. Grace simply reached over and down the rest of its contents, passing it back, licking her lips. “I'll take that as a yes,” Hancock chortled. 

They fell into an easy rhythm, Hancock would methodically keep her glass filled while the minutes ticked by. Grace stopped chugging down the liquor, letting it swirl around in her mouth. After a while, the ghoul finally spoke, “So, let me tell ‘ya a story?” 

Without lifting her eyes from her glass, Grace nodded. He continued, “So there once a boy named-- well let’s call him Shitface-- So, Shitface, is unhappy with his pathetic life. He thinks his bed is too small, his family doesn’t love him, his city sucks and his life is just not worth it. What do you think, li’ Shitface does?”

Grace don’t answer but stops drinking to give him her attention. He continues, “Shitface turns to drugs. He thinks those pills and needles will make his problems vanish. Hell for awhile it worked, but then those feelings would come back and he’d need more drugs to bury them. It got so bad one day the fool went and turned himself into a ghoul.” He let out a throaty laugh and it was his turn to down her half-empty glass. Grace had stopped drinking awhile ago, a bit shocked at this almost uncalled for confession. She barely knew him. He barely knew her, yet there they were drinking down their past misdeeds. She knows that is little “fable” was only part of the truth but still to think he was willing to even give her a part of his past like this was well, interesting to say the least. 

“I'm guessing that Shitface regrets it?” She ventured as the ghoul refilled both their glasses and drank. 

“Hell no, that high was so worth the intense rads,” was his reply. A somber quiet settled around them, Hancock didn't feel like telling anything more. Hell, he wasn't going to in the first place, but one look at her face was enough to make him wanna go piss on the world. He had this philosophy, do good by people but if they fucked you then you had every right to fuck them up right back. It wasn't exactly the pure justice approach, Nick ran around with but it kept Good Neighbor and Hancock afloat, so it couldn't be all that bad. This girl or woman had walked into his domain, and not even a minute passed when she had to deal with the kind of bullshit Hancock knew she didn't deserve. He couldn’t explain it, maybe it was the hard lines on her otherwise youthful face or the dirt-stain armor she wore like a second skin or the insane precision with which she moved in combat and at rest. He saw an inkling of himself in her and could not help but get drawn in. 

Grace broke the silence, “Hey Mr. Mayor, wanna hear a story?”

At this, the old ghoul let out a hearty laugh, “From you sweetheart, any day, but it seems we both have appointments to keep.” He gestured to the illuminated numbers on her pip boy. They had wasted away three hours and Grace needed to go meet up with that Merc and Nick. 

Hancock pulled out some jet as Grace poured the last bit of vodka into her glass. She drank half of it and left it sitting in front of the Mayor and gave him a little tipsy salute before rising from her seat and heading towards the outside. 

Again, a voice stopped her in her tracks, “oh and Sister, never caught your name?”

“Grace,” she threw over her shoulder with a quick wink, “I'm expecting another round of drinks when I get back.” Not turning around to receive his response, which was mostly a smirk and light laugh from the jet kicking in, Grace pedaled her way out of that dusty bar and out to take care of business. 


End file.
